The Cleaner
by Nutty as a fruitcake
Summary: Harry considered himself to be the best in his line of work. He never failed to execute an assignment. That was, until he was given the mission to assassinate the Minister of Magic, Tom Marvolo Riddle. LV/HP, AU, Vampire/Harry
1. Worry About Cleanliness

Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Warning: Slash. LV/HP. Vampire/Harry.

_"Parslethongue"_

_"_Normal speech"

* * *

**The Cleaner**

**_Worry About Cleanliness_**

**_1851_**

Harold turned his head so he could lie in a more comfortable position on the cold stone floor. Breathing unevenly out, he licked his dry and cracked lips.

He glanced blearily around in the small cell that had been his home for the last few months. Harold desperately needed water and some solid substance if he wanted to keep on living. He would undoubtedly die if his situation did not change. Though he knew that the reason for his death would most probably not be starvation. After all, he was a mortal man, unlike them, and he could not handle the games they wished to play. Harold's only wish was to leave the cold and dirty hell in which he was contained.

Tears swelled in his eyes, and he whimpered to himself. Oh, how far he had fallen from grace. His mother would surely look away in shame if she ever saw how ungraceful and ungentlemanly he was currently acting.

He longed for his family, for his beautiful mother, his kind but firm father and his beloved older brother. Yes, he would even agree to miss his horrible fiancé if he ever managed to escape.

They probably thought him dead. Tears began to run down his pale cheeks. He did not wish for death; he longed for life. Even a crippled life was preferable to death; it did not matter how much it would harm his family's name to have an abomination as a son. He wanted to become older than twenty-one.

To die of old age would be incredible. To marry his fiancé as his father expected, have lots of children and be a perfect gentleman.

To leave the love of his life for his fiancé would no longer be as horrible as it had been only months earlier. Now, just to be able to see him again would bring enough happiness for a lifetime. Why was he so unlucky?

"Harold, my love, what are you doing on the floor? Oh - poor, poor Harold. Are you crying all alone?" His captor's smooth voice rang out. Harold recoiled in horror. Glancing up with wet eyes, he shook his head in silent pleading.

"Look at you! All pretty on the dirty floor..." Footsteps were heard closing in on his position. Harold was shaking in fear, trying to move back from the beauty in front of him. Shackles were clicking together, ragged and fearful breathing, sounds of metal scraping against stone. It was a nightmare.

"No, no, no, no - please, no more. Please, I beg you... anything, but that." He cried with an unused voice. Gentle fingers threaded through his dirty and greasy hair making him flinch. "Harold, I'm sorry, but you know we have no choice but to do it." Harold had to give the man some credit; it almost sounded like he cared.

"Let me go!" He said strongly and he began to cough, his throat still hurt after his screaming session some days ago. The coughing racked his body, and the man patted his back in a comforting manner.

"Harold, my sweet love, you know we cannot do as you wish. Not after all the trouble we had to go through to rescue you from the terrible Potter family. Do you really think we will ever let you go?" The man whispered in a sickly sweet voice into his ear. Harold stiffened in a hostile manner, glaring weakly at the other being. The man stood up from where he had been crouching beside Harold. He sniggered as he meet Harold's eyes. "You're beautiful, my beloved." He laughed out, and Harold stared weirdly at the man. Surely he had not lost his mind?

Licking his lips, he exposing elongated fangs as he smiled.

"You will be here for the rest of your life, darling."

* * *

**_1988_**

Harry Potter walked down the street of Diagonal Alley. It was a bit past midnight, and the lane was mostly empty, just a few dark hooded men and light dressed women roaming the side alleys. He glanced towards an old and dirty man in a back alley stuffing his hands in a trashcan, before looking away in disgust.

Harry inhaled the chilly air and tightened his red cotton scarf, hoping it would keep the cold out. He was dressed in a seemingly new pitch-black suit, looking like a very serious businessman. In his right hand there was dangling a heavy-looking suitcase, which looked just as clean as every other part of the young man.

The most noticeable feature about the man was his eyes. They were ominously green, clearly visible against his pale skin. His hair was jet-black and was pulled tightly back against his head. It was the typical businessman hairstyle - though it seemed somewhat forced because short hair straws were escaping their prison behind the hair gel and were standing in all directions.

Harry strolled past a showcase window, and anyone looking past him into it would notice that he had no reflection.

Walking in a relaxed pace, he entered Knockturn Alley, leaving the lamps in Diagonal Alley.

He glanced unconcernedly down at a wristwatch, furrowing his eyebrows. He was late, though judging by his slow pace he did not care much about it.

Knockturn Alley was the exact opposite to Diagonal Alley, where everything was closed at this time of night. Knockkturn Alley contained many fascinating shops and restaurants. The owners would earn most if they were open at night as their customers were either creatures of the night or wanted to do their business during the dark so they could hide their shady shopping.

Harry came to a halt in front of a dark shop, The Coffin House, where he stood a few seconds frowning upon the dirty windows. It was closed; surprisingly.

Shaking his head, he stepped inside. As he entered, he saw a small candle standing at the counter, trying and failing to light up the room.

Coffins, strange objects and shelves of books were standing up against the wall; dusty and old-looking.

Glancing hesitantly around the horribly unhygienic room, he noticed that he was the only one in the shop. His client had yet to arrive, perhaps he had lost his nerve.

"No surprise there..." He muttered quietly to himself. Walking deeper into the shop, shining clean shoes contrasting with the dusty floor.

Harry put his suitcase on the floor, hoping he would be able to remove the dust afterwards. Picking up the closest book, he stared interestingly down at the cover.

"Immortality by... anonymous, too scared to say his or her name?" He said, pursing his lips in wonder as he opened the book. It was always interesting to see what kind of methods men used to become immortal.

After 20 minutes of reading, the client had yet to arrive. Looking worriedly towards the door, he wondered if his client had literally lost his nerve and decided not to appear.

He had been ten minutes late; it was troubling that his client was even more behind schedule.

Carefully putting the book back to exactly the same it had been earlier, he furrowed his eyebrows. His black gloves had gathered up dust from the dirty book. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust and tried to brush off the white layer of dust, but with no success.

He took them off carefully, so that he did not get dirty, letting them fall to the floor. Taking out his third pair of gloves of the day, he pulled out his wand to whisper an incarnation that whisked the gloves on the ground away.

He knew it was an obsession of his to keep himself clean, but he could do nothing about it. Harry Potter hated anything dirty and unclean. He blamed his creator.

He heard a creak as the door was hesitatingly opened, revealing his client in all his glory. It was a portly little man, with rumpled grey hair.

Harry smiled as he turned towards the man. He held his hand out to shake and was pleasantly surprised that he too had gloves on.

"Mr. Fudge. I was beginning to get worried! It's far past our initial meeting time, isn't it?" Harry said happily; he had never been afraid of being honest or to say whatever was on his mind. He saw no point in hiding himself behind a mask. Fudge looked uncomfortable, staring carefully at Harry's mouth.

Harry's smile widened, and he laughed. "I don't drink from dirt, you have nothing to worry about!" His elongated teeth were clearly the source to Fudge's uncomfortable feelings.

Fudge nodded, though evidently did not trust Harry's words. "I apologise for being late. I... I had some things to do." Fudge stated superiorly.

Harry nodded before saying the first thing that entered his head. "You know, you're just so plump and dirty, acting superior really doesn't suit you." He said merrily. Fudge opened his mouth then closed it, apparently not knowing what to reply.

"Uh - I... Well, you see..." He stuttered.

"Don't sweat it." He answered. "Let's find somewhere to sit - what about going to a restaurant? It's so dirty and dusty here, surely it's better to find another place!?." He asked Fudge, who shook his head in response.

"No, I think it's best if we stay here - I have rented an office in this shop, so we can talk there."

"Why? It's probably a lot nicer to be in a light and clean place." Harry said curiously.

"I have a position in the Ministry if Magic, I could lose a lot if someone saw me with someone like you!" Fudge snapped and walked briskly past Harry, who stared in surprised at the man's back.

"All right, you don't have to be an arsehole about it." He whispered in reply as he followed Fudge towards an office situated in another room, connected to the store by a door beside the counter.

Harry knew Fudge wanted to seem like a person who could give orders, but he was too paranoid and chubby to be an intimidating figure. It was no surprise he had lost the election for the position as the Minister of Magic.

The office they entered was no cleaner than the rest of the place, Harry desperately wished he was anywhere else. He looked disgustedly down at the dust layered chairs in the office they had just entered. He didn't want to dirty his coat by sitting on any of them. Though what choice did he have? Fudge took a seat behind the huge desk located in the middle of the small room.

"Please sit." Fudge ordered, and Harry licked his lips in frustration. He cleaned the chair seat with a flick of his wand before sitting carefully onto the offered chair. He knew that many people would be satisfied by a cleaning spell, but Harry had never received a newly washed smell from a thing washed with such a spell. It was always best with Muggle soap, in Harry's opinion.

Careful not to lean back into the chair he looked back at Fudge, who was staring nervously down on his hands. "Let's get to business, shall we? You have called me to do some cleaning, right?" He brushed of what seemed like a speck of dust from his pants as he talked.

Fudge nodded, his face becoming grim. "Yes, I have."

"You know what you're asking me to do, right?" Harry had to be sure that Fudge knew what it meant to hire him. It was not amusing when people came back to him after he had finished the job to blame him for not telling them enough. Or even to say he tricked them.

"Yes, I do. I... I know what I am asking you to do." Fudge's voice was wavering, apparently unsure, but they always were, so Harry was not discouraged.

"All right." He said. "There are some rules I think you should know..." Harry muttered, and Fudge nodded in response before glancing nervously around the room. Paranoid man.

"Well then, rule number one; everything I do and don't do is entirely controlled by money. This means that if someone offers a larger sum than you I follow them not you. Understood?" Fudge became even more nervous, but Harry paid it no attention. "Rule number two, which really isn't a rule at all; I never fail as long as I'm being paid. If you agree to rule number one, then I believe we'll get along beautifully!" He smiled broadly at Fudge. Though once again it made the man nervous, so he let it fade.

"So, who is it? The one you want me to clean up, that is?" Asking Fudge about the real business made the man even more anxious.

"Well...You see... Oh..." He stuttered. Harry could understand that it was a difficult question to answer, so he sat patiently waited for an answer.

"His name is... Tom Riddle, Tom Marvolo Riddle... He's the current Minister of Magic..." Fudge whispered, and Harry's eyes widened. He was going to kill a minister; it was certainly something he had not done before.

"This'll increase the price, you know." Harry said. He never took any job for a cheap price, not even if it interested him personally.

"I thought it would. I have money to pay it, you do not have to worry about not getting enough." Fudge said hurriedly.

"Then we have nothing to worry about!" He leaned forward in his chair and grinned at Fudge.

"Do you have some information on him? Anything at all?" It was only a professional question. Harry could did not care about the information he got from his clients, he only cared for money. He had a routine where he always stalked his kill for some weeks or months before cleaning them up, so he could find out everything he needed to know himself.

"Yes, I do…" Fudge shifted in his chair and brought up a small letter from his pocket.

"Everything I know about him is in here…" His voice was soft. Fudge glanced at his folded hands, becoming quiet. He looked back at Harry and opened his mouth, but closed it with a snap before he question could escape his lips.

"What?" Harry could not stand unasked questions, they annoyed him to no end.

"You…" It was annoying. He unconsciously took notice of some crusts of some sort of Fudge's coat making him even more irritated. A bad habit of his, when he became angry or annoyed with someone he always began to pick out all their unclean and rumpled spots. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he tried to let it go. After all, he did not want to do something stupid and lose his client.

"Yes?"

"I will not be named mentioned concerning the death of our Minister of Magic, am I right?" So the man was nervous of being caught, that was understandable.

"Of course, nobody other than me will ever know you arranged his death." Fudge flinched back into his chair.

"When will you kill him?" The general question: when? Humans had no patience.

"Hmmm… I don't know. It depends on how fast I understand his schedule… At least one, maybe two months." He nodded to himself.

"And at most?" Fudge looked worried. Elections were fast approaching. The new Minister of Magic would be announced in four months. The whole reason for Fudges haste was so that he could become The Minister.

"Don't worry. He'll be dead before the election." A satisfied look spread across Fudge's face. It was nice to know that the death of the Minister would bring other feelings than despair and sorrow. Harry massaged his temples. If he had gone to a psychologist years ago, then maybe he would not have such a twisted mind.

"Very well, I will leave it to you." Fudge stood from his disgusting chair nodding to Harry.

"Sure." He said. "Oh - and send me a message if you prefer some special weapon to kill him - though it'll increase the price." He shouted after the man who already exciting the shop. No answer came; not that he had expected one.

Glancing around for his suitcase, he began to stroll towards the front door. He found it where he and left it before Fudge had arrived. He carefully picked it up and looked at it. It was dusty already. After two or three cleaning spells he felt satisfied enough to leave the terrible place. He was quite amazed that he actually had been inside the dirty shop for so long. Bringing out his handkerchief, he put it around the doorknob and opened it.

**To be continued!**

**A/N: **This will have much shorter chapters than my other fanfiction - probably around 2000 words each chapter. Many thanks to my beta, TheKingOfTheCrossroads!


	2. Worry About the Past

Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Warning: Slash. LV/HP. Vampire/Harry.

_«Italic - Parslethongue«_

_«_Normal speech_«_

* * *

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About the Past**_

Harry struggled with his key, wringing it back and forth in the lock. He hated his new apartment; everything was unfinished and old; just the kind of place in which he disliked living. Though what choice did he have? He had to be close to the Ministry of Magic so he could stalk the minister.

After ten more minutes of struggle it finally unlocked and he entered feeling deathly tired.

Even though the apartment was both old and small, it was incredibly clean. Harry had renovated it as well as he could in a short amount of time and the place was actually liveable. The furniture had a classic style from the 19th century, and the walls were painted in a cold grey colour. All in all, it looked like a hotel; where no one lived, but kept disturbingly clean.

Sighing, Harry trudged his way to his bed. He fell ungracefully down upon it closing his eyes in appreciation of the soft pillows.

_"Harold."_ Glancing through half-open eyes, Harry smiled tiredly. "_I'm home, Baldwin"_ He whispered. Slowly the bed dipped from weight as the so-called Baldwin got on. Harry sat up against the wall staring lovingly down at his friend. Baldwin was a huge snake, an astatic reticulated python to be exact. He was about 17 feet long, and his markings had a complex geometric pattern that incorporated tan, brown, golden yellow and black. The black colour had a series of irregular diamond shapes that were flanked by smaller markings with light centres.

_"I can see that…" _The huge snake slithered across the double bed, up to Harry and put its head in his lap, careful not to move the heavy body across his owner's legs. "_Do you have something to eat for me?" _He asked, and Harry chuckled in response. "_No, sorry - I don't. Though you have eaten today, right?"_ Harry asked the reptile, whose eyes only shifted in reply_. "Seriously, you have eaten, right? I didn't open the kitchen window for you just so you could sunbath, you lazy reptile."_ He said playfully.

_"I've eaten…" _Baldwin hissed irritatingly.

Satisfied Harry shrugged. He did not really care what the snake ate as long as he did not get killed or captured.

Silence spread across the room. Harry stayed quietly still, dragging his hands over the smooth texture of snake skin. Snakeskin was so smooth and so incredibly clean - at least for Harry, who had grown up in a family where his mother absolutely adored snakes. After all she had been a Gaunt, and had loved snakes just as much as Harry did.

_"Your skin is so smooth and clean, you know that Baldwin?" _He said quietly to the snake, not really expecting an answer.

Shifting in his lap, Baldwin answered_. "Of course, I'm clean, I'm everything humans aren't."_

_"Yes, indeed," _Harry said playfully, before adding._ "You're the beauty of nature, my companion."_

Baldwin lifted his head to stare into Harry's eyes, who blinked in response._ "You're beginning with the honorific again, Harold." _He said after a moment in silence.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, before asking._ "What do you mean?"_

_"My companion, my beloved, honey, darling - I'm pretty sure it's not of this age." _The snake replied.

_"Ah, I'm sure it isn't, but I like to show my love to creatures with words." _Harry declared. "_I'm sure you like it just as much as me."_ He added amused.

_"I'm sure, Harold." _Baldwin remarked as though he couldn't care less about the reason for his owner's use of words.

_"Now that we're talking about names and the like - how about you begin to call me Harry? It's much more modern than Harold." _He asked hopefully.

_"No."_

_"No?"_

_"No."_

_"Why?"_

_"You may want to escape from your past, but I won't let you." _Baldwin hissed strictly in reply.

Harry looked offended. "_I'm not trying to escape from my past, I named you after my father, remember?" _He uttered stubbornly, crossing his arms in a protective manner.

_"I remember, but I think you named me after your father for another reason than just to honour him." _The snake answered quietly.

_"Sometimes it would have been nice if you weren't so smart, Baldwin." _Harry remarked irritatingly.

Baldwin gave a blank look only a snake could muster. "_I'm older than you, of course, I'm smarter." _He stated proudly.

Losing interest in their earlier discussion, and curious as to the answer, he asked. "How come your able to get so old?"

_"How should I know?" _The snake informed, not all that interested in his age.

_"Are you sure you aren't a wizard stuck in animagus form? That would explain your huge intellect."_ Harry said laughingly as he swapped the snake on its head.

_"Who knows…"_

_"Yeah - who knows…" _Harry said and moved across the bed to take a good hold around the snakes neck. He slowly and with some difficulty pulled the huge snake across his legs, gathering Baldwin in a pile just beside his legs - so they were not crushed.

_"I really love your skin…" _Harry whispered as he once again went back to pat the snake. He always had a tendency to begin random conversations when he got bored or annoyed.

_"You've said so," _Baldwin said, ever the pleasant gentleman.

Harry shook his head._ "But really, it's so incredibly nice." _He stared down at the beautiful skin. Eyes widening he glanced at Baldwin's head._ "Hey! Wouldn't it be awesome if humans had the same skin as you?" _He said excitingly.

The snake managed to gather an offended look. "_It would be a nightmare having to share my kin's beautiful skin with those dirty creatures."_

Harry nodded in agreement. "_Yeah - their really dirty, right? That's why I thought it would be really nice if they had snake skin - no hair, no sweat - it would be heaven." _He sighed dreamily.

_"I'm sure…" _Baldwin answered, uninterested in even trying to imagine men with snakeskin.

_"I would actually consider sleeping with humans if it were so disgusting! It would be so nice! Do you know how long it's been since I slept with someone, Baldwin?"_ Harry asked in his excitement.

Baldwin tried half-heartedly to move away from Harry's hold. Harry's grip tightened, so he stayed put, not wanted to hurt his feelings. "_No, I don't want to know."_

_"Are you sure?" _Harry said slyly, before continuing. "_Well, I'm going to tell you anyway - it's been over 60 years since I've touched anybody with sex in mind. Not that other people have not touched me, but it's never escalated to sex… ah, I'm really sexually frustrated - you know that?"_

_"I know, I'm not deaf and you're not exactly silent when you pleasure yourself you know."_

_"Hey - it's not my fault you listen."_

_"Yes, of course, it isn't your fault."_

Harry stared critically down at the snake. "_I'm beginning to wonder that the only reason for you always agreeing with me is because you don't want to begin discussing anything with me - you're lazy, you know that?"_

Laying his head down at Harry's leg in defeat, he replied. "_Of course, I'm lazy, I'm older than you - I'm a very old man, Mr. Harold."_

Harry looked irritatingly down at Baldwin._ "Stop with the Mr. It makes me feel old."_

Flicking his tongue, Baldwin closed his eyes in resignation. "_You're old, over 155, if I remember correctly."_

Shaking his head, he smiled widely, as though he had just won a prize for knowing more than the snake. "_Close, but not right - I'm 158 to be exact. You're not very good with numbers." _Harry said haughtily.

_"I'm better than you, but I see no need to count my years or even yours when we know there'll be no end."_

Harry looked offended, staring angrily down at Baldwin in his lap._ "We can both die."_

_"…"_

Getting angry from the lack of response he snapped out. "_Really, it's not difficult to kill me…"_

_"Keep on telling yourself that lie."_ Was the calm response.

Anger building up, he gritted his teeth_. "It's not a lie!"_

_"It is and we both know it." _Meeting Baldwin's eye he swallowed thickly, hating the direction their conversation had taken.

_"I can die anytime I want." _He muttered without any real conviction.

_"You can't."_

_"I can…"_

_"You can't, you've tried countless times, but you're still here." _It was no use it seemed; Baldwin was winning. Sometimes Harry despised that his snake had a huge intellect.

Staring into his palms he whispered._ "Why doesn't it work…"_

Baldwin closed his eyes, relaxing now that the man had quieted down somewhat. v_I wasn't with you the first 30 year of your life, how could I know."_

Harry closed his eyes and muttered in resignation. "_Maybe I angered God by becoming this bloodthirsty animal… this is my punishment." _Sighing he shook his head, it would not help to think about it.

_"Ah, cease your whining, you'll get nothing out of thinking about the 'whys' and 'how's.'" _Baldwin replied in a strict voice, apparently not wishing to go on a pity party with the man.

Harry glared half-heartedly before nodding and replying a bit playfully. "_You always destroy my depressive thoughts you known that." _Even though he sometimes went on emotional trips, it was nice that the snake did not follow and tried to keep him on the ground when he exploded. Though sometimes it was just irritating.

_"You should be thanking me."_

_"When I have a foot in my grave."_

_"Your too stubborn for your own good."_

_"Your too smart for your own good."_

Baldwin stared unimpressed up at Harry, he grinned in response. v_I'm tired - I'm going to sunbathe…don't disturb me." _He said as he began to slither off the huge bed.

_"Maybe I will," _Harry said arrogantly leaning over the side of the bed, staring after the snake that was making its way to the kitchen.

_"Your acting like a child." _Was the faint response.

_"I'm a child compared to you!" _Harry yelled, hoping he could be heard.

Keeping silent, he tried to listen for an answer._ "Don't wake me up." _Could be faintly heard from the kitchen.

Shaking his head he muttered. "_Stupid snake."_

* * *

_He was back in the lousy cold cell again. The stone floor was bitingly cold, and his body was a huddle of pain. Once again he was dying, leaving the painful world behind._

_Harry breathed slowly out and tears began to fall from his pale cheeks. "I don't want to die." He whispered._

_Slowly the world changed, and he found himself sitting defeated in a soft chair. His hands were bound with dirty chains, contrasting with the beautiful interior of the large hall. He could hear steps behind him, and he shook in fear._

_"It's time I give you the last of my love, darling." As always his captor's voice was smooth and comfortable, just like his appearance. Vampires always seemed to hold such beauty._

_Harold shook his head, fearful for whatever the man wanted to give him. He only gave pain, never pleasure. Noir always said he loved Harold with all his heart, but he never showed it the way ordinary people did. His love consisted of pain, torture…and more pain._

_Noir came up to Harold, and stood in front of him. He knelt down in front of the bound mortal, and smiled warmly. "I love you, I hope you know that." His stroked Harold's trembling cheeks lovingly, confusing the boy with his kind gestures. Harold stared at the man, waiting for the pain; he was sure to come._

_Noir smiled sadly as he pulled his hands through Harold's dirty hair. "I am going to give you my everything, my love, my life, my blood - you will never be able to get away from me." His hands tightened in Harold's hair and a wicked smile spread across his face. "This may hurt, but know that I love you, precious." Snapping Harold's head painfully to the side, he stared into fearful eyes. "This is not going to be the usual feeding." Nothing more was said as he drove his fangs into the mortal's neck._

Harry shot up from his bed, breathing raggedly. He whimpered as tears were streaming down his face.

_"Harold, what is it?"_ Harry glanced tearfully at Baldwin. The snake slithered back up onto the bed, Harry gathered it as close to his chest as he could, mumbling._ "It's nothing big, just a dream about my creation. Go back to sleep."_

**To be continued!**

**A/N: **Thanks to my beta TheKingOfTheCrossroads!:)

_**Q&A:**_

_Anonymous review - Gauss_: I do have quotation marks but they're not the normal type so it's possible that you can't see them. So just to be sure that everyone can see the quotation marks in the story, I've changed them to the normal type.;)


	3. Worry About Individuals

Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Warning: Slash. LV/HP. Vampire/Harry.

_"Italic - Parslethongue"_

* * *

**The Cleaner**

**_Worry About Individuals_**

"It was we, the people; not we, the Pureblood or Muggleborn citizens….(1)" Harry glanced away, closing his ears for the man's speech. It was an emotional speech, beautiful words - it was great, Harry had to agree, but it was meant for wizard's not him. Maybe it would have been clever to listen and get an idea of what the man stood for, but he had already done that by reading other speeches the man had held. Harry had entirely other things on his mind.

He looked critically through the crowd trying to locate the best prey. Harry hated crowds, but there was nothing he could do - he had a job to do.

Turning to a witch beside himself, he decided that she was good enough. "Excuse me, fat lady." He said politely; he had no filter at all. The woman glared at him and snapped out, "what did you call me, asshole?"

"Woah - no need to be rude." Harry defended as he raised his hands, trying to calm her down. Maybe he should begin to think about what he said before he said them, but it was always easier to get into a conversation if he was honest. Though he decided that maybe he should keep the offensive words for himself.

"No need to be rude? You called me a fat lady. I'm far from fat, pip-squeak" She said sharply, though who was she kidding she was huge.

"Well…. Wait, what, pip-squeak? I'm not that short." He answered, before correcting himself. "I apologise; I have a bad habit of saying the first thing that comes into my mind. Don't mind it. I just want to ask you some questions… If that's all right?" Harry said. He wanted to give her a bright smile, but he thought it probably wouldn't be the best thing to do when he had abnormally long canines revealing his identity as a creature of the night.

She looked confused for a moment before answering. "All right then…" Though she pursed her lips critically, looking upon him like he was a crazy person.

"Thank you! So, I'm new here, just got into the wizarding world - I have lived with Muggles so far, you see. And I wondered who that man is…" It was an enormous lie, which easily could be looked through. Few would believe he entered their world now, when he looked like he was 21. If he remembered correctly they usually entered when they were 11. Though luckily she seemed to believe him.

"Oh - I see, that explains your language." She whispered to herself, before looking up at him again. "The gentleman up there is our minister, isn't he gorgeous?"

Harry nodded because he had to agree. The man was incredible handsome to be a 62 year old man; he had grey hair and many wrinkles, but it seemed as it only added to his charm. Though he was a human, sweaty and dirty - Harry would only admire him from a distance, he had to wish to get closer than necessary.

"Really, What is his name?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, but he also goes by Lord Slytherin."

"Lord Slytherin?"

"Yes, he's the sole heir to the line of Salazar Slytherin."

"Sole heir, impressive." Harry already knew he was the heir to the line of Slytherin; it had been a fact that had given him conflicted feelings about his job. Harry had no personal grudge against the man; he was only doing it because he was hired.

It did not feel like the most agreeable job, now that he knew the man was the last of the Slytherin blood. His mother had been a Gaunt, and Harry did not look forward to killing the last of his name.

"And you know-" She had begun excitedly before he cut her off. "Well, thank you for your help." He added, before making his way through the smelling crowd. He had not received any information that he did not know from the woman, but he had understood, judging by the crowd and the witch, that he was incredibly popular - with both Purebloods, Half-bloods and Muggleborns.

Harry was satisfied to get a look at his kill, after all he had to have an idea of how he looked in reality and not only on pictures.

There was only one thing that had confused him to no end since he came to listen to the speech.

The minister smelled like a snake.

Harry would know because as a vampire he had better smell than other creatures, not like werewolves, but much better than humans and he would know the smell of snake anywhere - hell, he lived with a huge python.

He knew that the man was the heir to Slytherin, but never had Harry stumbled upon an heir that smelled like his beloved reptile. His mother may have not been an heir, but she had been a pure Gaunt, and she had not smelled anything like the minister.

Furrowing his eyebrows he knew there had to be something fishy about the so loved minister.

* * *

_"Baldwin, I have a mission for you," _Harry said as he slumped himself down on his kitchen chair. Baldwin was curled up in a buddle at a sunny spot on the table.

Staring tiredly up at the man in from of him, the snack hissed. _"A mission? You can't order me around… Begin again, you'd like to ask me…."_

Harry stared at the snake for a moment before lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed_. "Ask you, aren't you suppose to help me with my job?"_

_"No, it's your job not mine." _He responded instantly.

Irritated that he had to ask, he grumbled out. _"Fine. Could you do something for me…?" _Harry stared at the lazy serpent, hoping it was still awake.

After a moment of silence, a weak response came_. "It depends on what it is."_

_"I can't find the minister…" _Harry said glancing away in embarrassment. It was horrible, after one month of stalking the minister he had begun to lose the man. Just like that, out of the blue the man could no longer be easily followed. It annoyed and embarrassed him to no end. He was supposed to be a professional killer, and he could not even find his prey.

_"What?"_ Baldwin replied sharply, staring into Harry's green ones.

Cheeks heating; he looked away again._ "I can't find the one I'm supposed to kill! He disappears every day after he finishes work! Vanishes! I, a professional killer and a vampire, can't find a mere human!"_

_"You're getting old, Harold."_

Getting angry from the unsupportive answers he slammed his fist against the table, receiving a harsh glare in response._ "I've never had problems with finding and stalking my prey, never."_

_"Are you sure he's a mere human then?"_

_"Of course he is, he's a wizard - nothing more." _Harry mumbled stubbornly.

Baldwin shook he's head, unimpressed. _"Sometimes you underestimate your opponent, wizards can be extremely strong."_

_"Not that strong…" _The vampire protested carefully.

_"Are you sure?"_

Furrowing his nose, he snarled out arrogantly. _"A wizard cannot do anything against a vampire!"_

_"See you're underestimating their species." He hissed at the arrogant vampire. "Just because _you_ couldn't do anything against vampires when you were only a wizard, doesn't mean others can't," _Baldwin said as he put his head down, relaxing in the sun. He had apparently decided not to follow Harry into his frustration.

_"Even if it's true and he's incredibly strong, which allows him to trick a 153 year old vampire - it doesn't mean that he can trick a vampire that has magic." _Harry was aware that he was a bit arrogant, but he really could not understand how the man could disappear.

_"You're not that awesome, you know that. Maybe you somehow managed to keep your magic after being turned, but have you ever even practised them?"_

Looking away from the reptile, he said waveringly. _"I have, of course I've practised. What do you take me for, a lazy reptile?"_

_"I've never seen you practise anything, Harold. You're just playing, never seriously training."_

_"Playing with my magic is the same as training it." _Harry said, nodding his head in agreement to his own words.

_"Oh - I'm sure. Tell me, do you know any awesome and destructive spells?"_

_"What would I do with spells like that? Kill someone?"_

_"You're a hired killer…" _Baldwin said unbelievingly.

Huffing in reply, Harry shook his head._ "I don't like to use magic when I kill, it's so boring,"_

_"It's cleaner than using all the horrible instruments you're using, you know."_

_"Blood is not dirty!" _Harry yelled, hurt that the snake would even suggest that blood was dirty.

_"But you still cannot drink directly from humans even though you say it's not dirty."_

Harry grimaced. _"Even though the blood is clean and warm, the neck I have to bite is sweaty and hairy - I would die from the bacteria's on their skin."_

_"Still, why not use the disinfecting Muggle spray you always carry with you?" _Their eyes met, and Harry wondered how the snake knew he always carried a disinfecting spray with him, he had never told him.

_"It doesn't remove the hair and they're still able to sweat after I've applied it!"_ He defended.

_"You should get help with your obsession about cleanliness - it doesn't even make sense."_

_"What doesn't make sense?"_

_"You hate dirt, dust and anything unclean, but you like to bath in blood - a lot of people would think blood is dirty."_

His eyes widened at the thought, and he whispered disbelievingly. _"How could you say that?"_

_"Well, it's true."_

_"It's not. " _He said, before shaking his head_. "ah, I don't want to discuss something like this with you. You wouldn't understand."_

_"I don't understand it." _Baldwin agreed.

_"Yeah, yeah - ah, all the talk about blood has made me hungry." _Harry replied, standing up from his chair. He walked up the refrigerator, picking out one of the many blood bags inside.

Baldwin stared critically at the bag before adding._ "Go out and find some fresh blood."_

Harry almost dropped the bag in his hand from the suggestion._ "What!? Have you lost your mind? I just told you I don't drink from humans."_

_"Try it."_

_"I've tried it…" _He said and made a grimace.

_"When?" _The snake asked, even though he knew when Harry had drunk from humans. He only wanted to make fun of him.

Harry waved his hand uninterestingly. _"Years ago." H_e answered shortly and brought the blood bag up to his mouth, biting into it. He closed his eyes in pleasure. The act of drinking blood was always highly pleasurable for vampires. It was an arousing thing to do, to drink blood directly from a person. Blood in a bag never had an enormous effect - it was old, and not as vital, which made it somewhat insipid. Harry was used to it though, and found it very pleasurable to drink the old blood.

It would be better to drink directly from a person, but he had no wish to dirty his mouth with dirty human skin.

Baldwin stared uninterestingly at the man._ "And years ago means?_

Wiping his mouth, he furrowed his eyebrows in thought._ "About 50 years, I think…."_He mumbled._ "Still, why should I drink from a human when I can get blood in clean bags from the hospital, it's hygienic." _He replied as he threw the empty blood bag away in the trash.

_"I understand why you keep to yourself and doesn't live in a coven."_

_"Being eccentric is normal for vampires." _He said smiling brightly, sitting back in the chair.

_"I've seen it, I live with one."_

Not replying at once, he stared at the lazy snake at the table._ "Why're we criticising me? You're no better."_

Baldwin flicked his tongue._ "How?"_

Tapping his chin, he muttered._ "Well - you're an incredibly old snake… but you have no friends!"_

_"I'm a snake, I don't need friends - I have you."_

_"I'm your owner." _Was the snarky answer.

Baldwin raised his head meeting Harry's stare. _"In your dreams. I'm more YOUR owner, than you're mine."_

_"I hate you." _Harry said playfully, not meaning a word of it.

_"I'm honest, you should love me." _The serpent said proudly.

Sighing, Harry shook his head._ "You're probably the reason ordinary people doesn't like me…"_

_"Why is that?"_

_"Your honesty is effecting me - I end up saying the first thing on my mind."_

_"You've done that since I met you, Harold."_

_"Keep believing that." _He said mysteriously, before remembering the original topic of their conversation. _"So, can you find the minister for me? You're good at finding people."_

_"Well, since you're asking so nicely, I'll try to look. Though I can't promise I'll find him." _Baldwin said as he slid off the table. Landing heavily at the floor, he glanced up at Harry. _"And?"_

Harry looked confused. _"And?"_

_"Thank me." _Scrunching up his face in irritation, Harry stared stubbornly at the snake. Baldwin bumped his body against Harry's leg, making the man hiss the requested words._ "Thank you."_

_"Good boy." _The snake hissed, making his way out of the kitchen towards Harry's bedroom where a window was open

* * *

Harry glanced down at his untouched coffee, swearing silently.

He had sent Baldwin away to get some information on the man three days ago, and the snake had not yet return.

While Harry knew the snake was alive, he could not help but be worried. Baldwin was his partner and friend; he could not afford to lose him, ever.

He could only do one thing now; something he desperately wished he did not have to do. He had to try to find Baldwin, which meant he had to go to the house of the minister - without the weird, snake-smelling man knowing he was there.

Usually, when he was supposed to kill someone, he had a rule, never to go anywhere he did not have enough information on. And the huge house belonging to the minister was a place he had absolutely no information on. That had been the reason for him asking Baldwin to go in the first place.

It was a stupid move, but he had to find his snake. He refused to be left alone again.

**To be continued!**

_1. Taken a part from Susan B. Anthony's speech in 1872._


	4. Worry About Serpents

Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

_"Italic - Parslethongue"_

* * *

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About Serpents**_

Harry stood silently under an invisibility spell, staring critically up at the house. It had been easy to find the way to Little Hangleton, the house stood on a hill overlooking the village; it was a very fine manor.

Though now that he was standing there, looking upon the beautiful house, he hesitated.

What if Baldwin was not even there? It was possible.

Swallowing harshly he made his way over the grass. He had his suitcase with his weapons with him, just in case it ended with him having to kill the minister early.

He hoped it could wait; he did not have enough information on the man to think he was ready. Though it was incredibly difficult to get anything on the old-man, so maybe he never could be ready. It was incredible that people knew almost nothing about the man; he was the minister!

As Harry got closer to the house, he noticed that there were absolutely no lights, so he assumed that no one was home. Though he had to be careful, for all he knew the man liked the dark.

Harry walked quietly up to the door. He usually had control, but now everything was so far from controllable. He had no idea if the man was home, if he had any maids or how the interior was laid out. Harry hated his situation and wished nothing more than to go home. Nevertheless his need to rescue Baldwin, if he even was in the house. Loyalty won over his logic.

He snorted quietly to himself. What was the worst thing that could happen? That he died?

Deciding that there was nothing worse than him failing his job, he did the worst thing he could possible do. He turned the door handle and entered the house. Upon entering the building, he became aware of the foreboding silence. Swallowing as the nervousness came back, he glanced around worriedly.

Harry knew things could not get any worse than they were, so he whispered slowly into the dark. "Baldwin…"

When no reply came, Harry turned, deeming his search over. He had to get out of the house and fast. There was something not quite right about the building.

He tried to open the door, but noticed that it did not move. Panicking he used all his power to force it open, but it did not even make a sound. He whipped out his wand trying different incarnations to open it with force. Nothing worked; he was stuck in the house of the man he was supposed to kill. He was clever enough to understand that he had underestimated the minister. He had been tricked.

Turning around slowly, he began to walk deeper into the house, in search of a backdoor of some kind. As he walked he tried to call out for Baldwin. "Baldwin…" The man knew Harry was there, so there was no need to hide anymore. It was not as though he could kill Harry, so he really had nothing to worry about.

Harry heard a creek behind him, and he whipped around, ready to take on whatever met him. A red light met him, and the world dove into darkness.

* * *

Harry awoke sluggishly, blinking in the darkness. He could not see anything at all, and judging by the feeling of cotton in front of his eyes; he was blindfolded. He tried to move, but realised he was bound to a chair.

He sighed; this had to be the most embarrassed thing that had ever happened to him. He was supposed to kill the man, not walk right into his trap. He was way to impulsive when he became worried about important things; he blamed Baldwin.

Hearing footsteps, Harry licked his lips nervously. Soon the smell of a particular kind of snake filled the room, and Harry knew it was the minister.

After minutes of silence, Harry began to get irritated. Was the man not going to say anything?

"I'm so sorry for intruding, but I though no one was home," Harry said smiling. Better to play dumb.

"Clearly." Was the short reply. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, it seemed to Harry that the minister's voice differed to when he had held the speech in the ministry.

"You're the minister, right?" He asked curiously.

Harry sensed the man sit down opposite to him before he replied. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"You smell." Harry blurted out, and the room went silent.

"Excuse me?" Tom answered. Harry had decided that the man had to be the minister, his smell was unmistakeable.

"You smell like a snake." Harry explained. "Ah- I'm not insulting you! It's actually a good thing to smell like a snake!"

Hearing a sigh and footsteps coming towards his position in the chair, he swallowed. It reminded him too much of his creation.

Hands took a firm grip on his hair, pulling painfully at his hair as the man whispered into his ear. "Why are you here, vampire. I've made a deal with your kin, surely they will be angry because you're going against our deal."

Grunting in pain from having his hair dragged out of his skull, he answered. "What deal? Wait, aren't you the minister? I thought wizards keep away from vampires!?."

"Which coven are you a part of?" Tom ignored his question.

"Coven? I'm not a part of any coven."

"A stray… so, who has asked you to follow me?" The man demanded and pulled harder on Harry's hair.

Trying and failing to shake his head in denial, he replied. "Eh - what're you talking about? I haven't been following you…" Harry was unsure if it was smart to play stupid with the man, but he tried.

"Who do you take me for?" He hissed in reply and painfully let go of Harry's hair.

"A 62 year old man." He said as he heard the man walk away from him.

"Why have you been following me?"

"Not telling." He said arrogantly - he had promised Fudge not to give his name and as long as the minister did not give him more money than Fudge then he kept his mouth shut.

"You do have a lot of interesting interments in your suitcase, how about we try them out." The minister said, and Harry began to get worried. While death was not an option, pain was. Harry was not a fan of torture, though judging by the man's voice he had nothing against it.

"Let's not…"

"Oh, but I insist. This gun is very nice indeed; let's try it out, shall we?" He said, and Harry shook his head. It was never comfortable to be shot.

Harry heard the man load the gun, and he began sweating. He was not kidding.

Tom walked closer to him again. "Are you still having difficulties remembering the name of the person who hired you?"

"Can't remember… maybe no one hired me." He mutter.

"I am sure you're hired, I do have my sources after all. I just want a name."

Harry shook his head.

"Very well, your loss." It was the response he got as the man shot him in his right tight. "Ughuuahhh!" Harry screamed and leaned back, gritting his teeth in pain.

Harry breathed harshly, trying to keep his mind off the horrible pain in his right tight. He shook his head, refusing to answer the man.

"Stubborn, well then - how about we try this scissor here?" Tom said sweetly. Cold sweating and knowing which scissor the man was talking about he swallowed harshly. There were so many things the man could do with a scissor - many Harry did not want to think about. Was he ready to be tortured, just to keep the chubby man safe? Really, he wasn't.

As Tom took hold of his hand, holding his fingers out he knew he had to do something. He only had to feel the cold metal of the scissor on his middle finger before he yelled out. "Wait!"

The scissor stopped, but was not removed from his finger. Harry swallowed. "How about we make a deal?"

Tom sighed. "Maybe you have not noticed, but you are in no position to ask for deals, vampire."

Shaking his head he muttered. "It's not really a deal I just want to ask you something…"

The scissor was removed, and his hand freed. "Very well, but I cannot promise I will answer your question."

"All right - have you seen a male python?"

"A python?"

"Yes."

"Maybe - now answer my question." Tom said, and Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. He had to find Baldwin.

"Fudge, Cornelius Fudge." Harry replied, before adding. "Seriously, have you seen it? The snake?"

No answer was given, and Harry began to get nervous again. He had gotten what he asked for, surely he would not torture Harry just for fun?

Once again the sound of a gun being loaded, and Harry knew the man had no intention of letting him walk away alive. He tried to move, get out of the bound chair. As he moved his blindfold fell off, and Harry's eyes widened.

The man had to be the most beautiful creature Harry had seen in his entire life. He had a chalk-white face, snake-like slits for nostrils and long, thin hands. The man was also tall and had incredibly white skin.

Harry knew most people would find the man scary, but to Harry he looked so much like the animal he loved that it made him incredibly beautiful. And the best part - he had no hair, no hair at all on the pale skin.

Swallowing he stared hypnotised at the man, who held the gun in his long hands. Harry wondered longingly if the man did not sweat since he looked so much like a snake.

Though before he could look any longer, the gun was fired and the bullet went straight into his head, once again introducing him to darkness.

* * *

"Should I remove the corpse, my lord?" Was the first thing Harry heard when he came to again. It was always like this when he died, waking up was like awaking after heavy sleeping. Sluggish and tired.

He was somewhat aware that he was laying at the floor, no longer bound or blindfolded, which was no surprise since he was supposed to be dead.

Harry did not know why he never died when people killed him, normal vampires could easily be killed. Though after a long period earlier in his life searching for answer he did not find, he had given up. Harry had learned to accept the fact that he did not stay dead for long.

Apart from not staying dead and be able to use magic, Harry was just like every other vampire he knew. He was an undead, so he drank blood to get his body to function. He got sunburnt incredibly easily, luckily the stories about vampires turning to sand in sun was just a myth.

Harry opened his eyes carefully, not wishing to be noticed. It was always easy to look dead after awaking from a killing. He was in great need of blood, his body felt slow and sluggish as it did when he had not drank in days. Luckily he did not go into a bloodlust at once, it usually took about a week before he lost his mind completely and began to search for blood like some bloodthirsty animal.

"Let it be. It is Nagini's dinner soon." Harry forced himself not to jump in horror - it seemed like the man planned to feed him to something. Imagination running wild he wondered what sort of animal it was. A dragon, a bear or maybe even a lion!?

"Of course, my Lord," was the immediate and polite response as the man left the room. Harry wondered why the supposedly 62-year-old minister looked like he did and why he was called 'my lord'. He even thought that the two identities were two different people, but it was not possible since every person had different smells and they both had the exact same snake smell.

Harry swallowed, wondering how he could get out of the situation.

_"Nagini, I have dinner for you." _Harry wanted to hit his head against the floor, of course the animal that was going to eat him was a snake - the man was the heir of Slytherin.

Hearing sound of a huge snake slithering against the floor Harry racked his brain for a way out of the room. As it came closer he knew he to move. He could not die but that did not mean he wanted to get killed again and by snake poison.

He rolled around on his stomach and yelled. _"Stop!" _Silence racked the room. Harry noticed that they were in a huge office, where the beautiful hairless man was sitting shocked behind a desk. He glanced over to the snake that was a disturbingly close to him, looking ready to attack. _"Seriously, I don't taste good." _He said to the snake.

Harry tried to stand up, but his legs failed him and he fell back to the floor, hitting his chin painfully against the floor. _"Fuck…" _He mumbled, once again trying and failing to stand.

After one more try, he gave up.

Laying like a dead fish on the floor he glanced up at the man, who had moved from his desk to stand in front of Harry. He muttered something to the snake and it slithered away, out the door. Harry breathed out in relief.

Tom stared curiously at him and Harry returned the stare. "You're not dead. How curious." Was all the man said, and Harry wanted to kiss him. It had been ages since he had seen anyone that remotely aroused him, so he could not help but want the man. Though he knew it was somewhat stupid to have such thought when the man had killed him earlier. It was incredible he had not blurted out his thoughts yet.

"Yeah, it's curious, isn't it?" Harry answered cheekily.

"I thought you were a vampire, boy." He said and Harry stared irritatingly at the man. "Don't call me 'boy', I'm much older than you!" He snapped.

"Is that so. If so you certainly do not act your age."

"I believe it's healthy to keep my youth." Harry replied.

Tom bowed down, forcing Harry's mouth open with his thin fingers. Harry, who was secretly loving his fingers, let him. He dragged them over Harry's elongated fangs before muttering. "You're a vampire, so why did you not die?"

Harry felt the fingers leave his mouth and licked his lips before answering. "I don't know."

"You, 'don't know'?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Oh, and guess what!? I can use magic too!" Harry said excitedly, wanting to give the man more reasons not to forget him.

Tom's eyes sparkled, clearly he was interested. "Really… You do not know the reason for why you have kept your magic either, do you?" He asked after a moment.

"Nope."

Sighing he stood up and walked up to his desk, sitting down in the huge chair behind it.

"Very well. Now, explain why you are a parselmouth." He said dangerously, daring Harry to lie.

Not seeing any reason to lie, he blurted it out. "Ah - my mother was a Gaunt."

His eyes widened. "A Gaunt? Who?"

"Cassiopeia Gaunt."

"Cassiopeia… Gaunt. Tell me why I have never heard of her?" He stood up from his chair, staring holes in Harry, who was still lying at the floor.

"I'm sure you haven't. She died in 1876 and she was not from the main branch, she married a Potter, you see. I'm pretty sure the Gaunt line wanted to forget her after that." He added knowingly.

"You are a Potter? I should have guessed." He said in expansion.

"Hey! What does that mean? And if I remember correctly, my brother's son married the only child to head of the Potter family, so I'm a part of the main branch… yeah, I think that's right."

"You talk too much, Potter."

"Harry." He corrected.

"What?" He asked in irritation.

"Call me Harry, I don't like to be called Potter - it makes me feel old." The only answer he got was a sigh.

"So - what should I call you? I've been calling you Tom in my mind, but I've imagined your disgusting, hairy, human getup. So I wondered if I should call you Tom when you look like this too?" Harry babbled and the man raised an eyebrow when he talked about his human form.

"Do not call me Tom." He added after a minute and Harry nodded.

"What should I call you then? My lord? Like the man earlier called you?" Harry asked playfully.

"If you wish." He replied dryly.

"Really, seriously? What should I call you?" Harry pressed, and the man massaged his temples in irritation.

"Voldemort."

"Woah - really? Flight of death?" He asked. As the man gave him a harsh glare he added. "All right."

Voldemort, as the man wanted to be called, glanced down at some papers on his desk, completely ignoring Harry. Harry sighed before deciding that he did not want to be at the floor any longer. It was uncomfortable, and even though it seemed clean he didn't know when it was last washed. He used his hands to try to pick himself up, though after a few attempts, he sighed in defeat.

"Please be silent." Voldemort muttered irritatingly.

"Well, I'm sorry, but as you can see I actually have a reason for being noisy!" He answered in frustration. Voldemort looked up from his papers, glaring. "You are very lucky I cannot kill you."

"I think I'm very lucky that I can't die… though I can't do much more than a corpse after I've died."

Voldemort nodded, he had clearly understood that Harry could not move. Surprise. "Good, you know too much."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means - you know about the connection between the minister and Voldemort, I cannot let go." He answered, glancing back to his papers. Harry sighed. He had expected as much, though what would the man do with him? He could not kill him, so did he want to keep Harry like a pet? As he thought about pets he remembered Baldwin.

"Ummm…."

"What?" Voldemort snapped.

"You know the snake I asked about earlier?"

"Before I shot you? Yes, I remember."

"Well, you see I sent him to spy on you. He's the reason I came here in the first place… He's name's Baldwin." Harry asked hopefully, if Voldemort did not know then he had no idea where the snake may be.

Voldemort went silent before nodding. "I think one of my servants caught a huge snake some days ago."

Harry brightened. "A huge snake? A python? I think that's him! Could you bring him here?"

"No."

"Eh - why?" He whined.

"He is your pet, I will not risk anything by letting you meet him." Voldemort replied strictly.

"You're really mean."

"I am a Dark Lord, I believe most people would call me 'mean'." The man muttered, uninterested.

"What? You're a Dark Lord?!" Harry said, shocked.

Voldemort looked surprised at Harry. "You did not know?"

"No, Fudge only wanted to remove the minister so he could get the position for the next election." Harry replied.

Sighing he said quietly. "I should have known."

"So, about my snake. I re-" He began, hoping to persuade the stubborn man, but he was cut of by a short. "No."

Harry laid his head down at the cold floor, if he wanted to do anything himself he had to get some blood. Though judging by the man's idea to keep him here, he would probably not get it anytime soon - if ever. What better way to hold an immortal vampire captured than to keep food from it so it could not move a muscle.

He glanced up at the man in defeat. He may as well get used to being close to the man. From what Harry had seen so far of him, he had concluded that the man indeed had a snake-ish feel to his skin, it almost felt like a snake when the man stuffed his fingers in Harry's mouth earlier. So Harry thought that since it felt like snake skin it had to be like Baldwin's skin. No hair, clearly, and hopefully no sweat. The perfect blood-bank.

He was new dream man in Harry's eyes. All snake-looking, lovely.

Just to be sure that he had not understood the man wrongly he asked. "Will you ever let me go?"

Voldemort stared back at him, his red eyes surprisingly beautiful. He tapped his pen against the desk, before answering.

"To let an exotic creature such as yourself escape?" He whispered and Harry nodded. He smirked with his lipless mouth before adding. "Never."


	5. Worry About Nourishment

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About Nourishment**_

"Water, sir?" Harry blinked in response.

"Or maybe tea?" He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He blinked several times before once again trying to bring his words out of his throat. Nothing, just the sound of his own breath sweeping in and out of his lungs.

"Wait, sir! Tittup knows what you want - It's coffee, isn't it, sir?" Harry did not give any answer.

"No? Hot water, for your throat then?" Was the next question. Harry bared his teeth at the irritating creature.

It took a few jerky steps away from the bed in which Harry was laying. "Tittup apologises, sir." It moved backwards and forwards in jerky and exaggerated movements. Finally it muttered. "Water?" Harry glared wildly at the small creature.

The only door in the room was left open. I creaked on its hinges in the as Voldemort strolled inside, his black robes flaring behind him.

The first sight greeting him in the windowless room was a House Elf jumping back and forth in front of the bed situated in the middle of the room.

Sighing, he sat elegantly down in a throne-like chair beside the bed, muttering. "Tittup, leave the animal alone."

The House Elf, nodded vigorously. "Of course, master." It glanced worriedly at the individual in the bed before whispering. "Should Tittup bring him something to drink? Water, tea or maybe even coffee?"

Voldemort stared at Harry. "No." He said and after a second thought he added. "Though you may bring up one of the subjects in the dungeon… Do not bring one that have been used in experimentation."

"Tittup will do as you wish, master!" It answered excitedly, delighted to get an order from its master. It popped away, leaving the room.

Voldemort sighed again as he glanced at Harry. "I thought you would last longer." He said.

Harry didn't answer. His eyes were staring intensely at the dark lord, his pupil's small slits. The bedridden man bared his teeth and tried to move, but it only resulted in awkward wiggles.

Voldemort stared unimpressed at the sharp teeth, and his futile tries to move. "I have seen vampires in bloodlust before, but never seen it have consequences such as yours. It is quite extraordinary, it only clarifies that my choice to keep you was indeed the right one." Voldemort said superiorly. Harry snapped his teeth in response.

Harry lost all awareness of what was going on around him, but Voldemort continued to speak anyway. "As you may know, it is usual for a vampire to attack like an animal when in bloodlust. It is a natural state, meant to save the vampire from starvation as I am sure you know." Voldemort muttered to Harry as he picked up a cup of tea from the small table beside his chair. Tittup had filled the entire table up with different beverages; it was not unusual to find tea and coffee cups all over the manor, as a result of the House Elf's love for serving them.

"Your defence mechanism, on the other hand, is more of a burden than a protector it would seem. You cannot die, so your inner vampire has no need to get you into the normal type of bloodlust. You go on until there is no longer any substance in your body, which results in your collapse - it appears that it is only after this phrase that you fall into the known animal state of a vampire - you are quite fascinating." Voldemort concluded, and silence swept across the room.

After twenty minutes, Tittup popped back into the room with a thin man. Voldemort glanced up at the House Elf before clicking his tongue in annoyance. "I believe I asked you not to bring any of the ones that have gone through experimentation."

Tittup looked nervous, glancing up at the dazed man it had brought. "He's clean, master. Tittup only had to drug him so no harm would come to master when Tittup brought him." It muttered.

"Very well, you are excused." He said, and Tittup popped away leaving the thin man alone at the middle of the floor.

Voldemort gave a disgusted glance at the thin man.

Sighing, he muttered. "Imperius." The man was struck by the spell and began to walk sloppily towards the bed.

As he reached the bed, he kneeled beside it revealing his neck. Harry, who had followed the movements in the room, stared unimpressed at the man kneeling at his bedside.

After a few minutes, Harry had yet to do anything even though the man was close enough to touch.

"Eat." Voldemort ordered. Harry scrunched up his nose in a disgust, before glancing away.

Irritated at the lack of acknowledgement, he snapped. "Eat, Harry."

He still made no response.

Voldemort massaged his temples. "The responsibilities following a pet…" He muttered as he stood up. He came up beside the kneeling man and took a strong hold on the back if his neck. Voldemort pushed the thin man's neck up to Harry's mouth. "Now eat." He ordered for the third time.

As the man's neck came up to his face, Harry began to squirm. He turned his face away grimacing and bearing his teeth in defence.

Voldemort stared confused down at the hissing man before he tightened his eyebrows in annoyance. He threw the thin man behind him, ignoring the pained whimper coming from him as he hit the floor. Voldemort gripped Harry's cheeks, forcing his mouth open. Red eyes swirled with anger. "If you do not eat yourself, then I will force you to. You are of no use chained to a bed." He snapped. His attention was fully on Harry's eyes. Voldemort stared into for a moment.

In a flash, Harry shook his head, shaking Voldemort's fingers off his cheeks and shot forward and sunk his fangs into Voldemort's finger.

The man hissed but kept his finger in Harry's mouth, not wanting to have his finger ripped to ribbons. Voldemort sucked air angrily through his nose and leaned further into the bed, looming over Harry. With his free hand, he took a tight grip around Harry's neck and pressed.

Harry, who had been busy gulping as much blood as he could press out of Voldemort's finger, did not notice the uncomfortable pressure on his throat before he no longer could get air into his lung. Teeth slipping out of the finger, he wheezed, trying to breath. Voldemort stared coldly down at Harry as he applied his other hand, doubling the pressure on the man's throat.

Harry's eyes which had been dazed ever since Voldemort had entered the room brightened, and he blinked confusedly before panic overcame him.

Struggling he tried to force Voldemort's thin hands of his neck, but without success. Slowly as the lack of air got to his brain he lost strength, though just before he blacked out Voldemort let go.

Sucking in air, he massaged his painful neck, where angry red marks already were forming. "You…" He said raspy, wincing from the pain. Voldemort who had yet to move from his position on the bed leaned down to Harry's ear. "Never are you to touch me without permission. I may not be able to kill you, but we both know there are more painful things than death." He whispered threateningly, Harry nodded in response.

"Of course…" He nodded, trembling.

Voldemort took a step back from the bed, sitting down in his chair again. Ignoring Harry he chose a cup of coffee from the table.

Harry glared at the relaxed man. "You are a disturbing man." He mumbled.

"Indeed." Voldemort agreed nonchalantly.

"It was really uncalled for, you know that? My throat's going to hurt for days, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get marks! What do you think you're doing to your pet?" Harry snapped, irritated. He was feeling threatened, which was something he wasn't used to.

"It is an owner's responsibility that the pet behaves accordingly. As your owner, I only gave you some discipline as you misbehaved." Voldemort responded calmly, the earlier anger gone.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Oh yes, you did. We both know it."

"Wait, what? I did something?" Harry mumbled confusedly. He had no memory of doing anything unacceptable, had he not awaken to find Voldemort's hand on his neck? "You choked me out of the blue!"

"You believe I would do such a thing with no apparent reason?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well, when I bring it further thought it did release a huge amount of stress. Maybe we should make a tradition of it?" Voldemort said smirking.

Harry glared furiously at him. "No way! I don't fancy waking up because of oxygen lack!"

Voldemort shook his head. "You are not the victim here, Harry."

"What? Of course, I'm the victim! You choked me…"

"Yes, I did, though you may not believe it - I did have a reason." Voldemort muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry stared critically at him. "You're not the type to give excuses, so I'll hear you out."

"You do not have a choice in the matter of hearing me out or not. You are a pet; therefore, you do as your owner, me, says." Voldemort corrected.

Harry made a grimace in response.

"Let us get to the point, shall we?" Voldemort asked, and Harry nodded regretfully. "The reason I am even mentioning your wrong doings is because we need to address it. I refuse to let it become a usual problem every time you go into bloodlust."

"I was in bloodlust? Really?" Harry asked but hurriedly added. "Oh - of course, you killed me and I didn't get blood after it… "

"Yes."

"So… how come I'm conscious?"

"You stole my blood."

"I… 'Stole' it?"

"Yes, taking something from me, be it blood or objects, equals stealing."

Harry's eyes widened, and he licked his lips. "Ummm…" Staring down at the bed sheet he unconsciously straightened it out. "You're hairless right?" He asked quietly, a nervous gleam in his eyes.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "I am."

"Completely?"

"Completely?" Voldemort answered, clearly desiring a clearer question.

"You have absolutely no hair anywhere on your body, right?"

Voldemort stared a bit confusedly at Harry before he answer. "I have no hair anywhere on my body." Harry relaxed considerable, before he added. "I just want to know - since you look so much like a snake, do you also lack the ability to sweat?"

"I cannot sweat…" Voldemort replied though it was clear he wished for an explanation for Harry's need to ask such questions.

Harry ignored it. "Oh - well then, thanks for the blood." Harry said a smile spreading across his face, but it faded as he glanced worriedly at Voldemort. "I hope you're finished 'disciplining' me…"

"Oh well, you have received your punishment so - yes, I am done with your disciplining - for today."

"Great!" Harry brightened.

Voldemort gave a nod in agreement before a serious light entered his eyes. "Now, let us get down to the real problem."

Blinking confused, Harry responded. "The real problem?"

"You refused to drink from a Muggle. While I can understand a vampire refusing it normally, a vampire in bloodlust should have no such control… explain yourself."

"I refused to drink from a Muggle…" He muttered quietly to himself.

"Answer." Voldemort commanded.

"Do I have to?" Harry asked, looking away from the man in front of him.

"I never ask, I only order."

Harry said nothing.

Sighing, Voldemort massaged his temple. "I can feel irritation brooding, maybe I should release it by choking you?"

"All right, all right." Harry answered quickly. "You see, the thing is - I despise human skin… you know all the hair, hair gathers up dirt and let us not talk about the sweat…" He shivered in disgust.

Voldemort nodded in understanding. "Ah, so the explanation for your need to know if I have hair or sweat is that you have a phobia against it."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a phobia…" Harry denied.

"Then what should I call it?" Voldemort furrowed his brow.

"Dislike?" Harry tried.

"I am no fool, Harry. You refused to drink from a person in bloodlust; it must be more than just a dislike! Maybe even more than an incredible strong phobia." Voldemort concluded as he sat his coffee cup down.

"Whatever…" Harry muttered.

"Indeed, but as your owner I need to know if you have other phobias or if you are allergic to something." Voldemort said coldly. "I have no wish to harm you unnecessarily."

"Wow - how thoughtful of you." Harry replied sarcastically.

Voldemort smirked. "I am very pleased you believe so."

Harry glared at him. "Leave me alone, I'm tired." He said as he laid down pulling the sheet over his shoulders.

"I was planning on leaving. I, unlike you, have responsibilities." Voldemort responded, standing up.

"I have responsibilities!"

"Really?" Voldemort's eyes flashed red.

Harry stared irritated at him, muttering. "I have a job, you know."

"Not anymore."

"…You're not going to let me go."

Voldemort strolled up to the door, smirking. "I am very glad we both agree."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

"Very well, I will come back at a later time." He said as he opened the door, glancing over his shoulder he warned. "Do not bother trying to escape, the door is locked."

"You're locking me up?" Harry asked, angry that the man would dare lock him up. He hated being locked up; it reminded him too much of the years in his cell.

Voldemort said nothing. He locked the door, and Harry heard bolts and knew spells would be cast upon the door. "Hey! I don't want to be here; there's nothing to do here!" He yelled.

Not getting any response, he sat up screaming. "Hey! Let me out of the room, I'm not going to escape. Asshole!" He coughed lightly; he's throat was still painful and sore. He could not believe his stupidity, to yell in his condition. One would have thought he knew better since he had been choked more times than he cared to remember. Noir had always loved to do it, and Harry believe to this day that the man had some kink concerning it.

"Why can't I have a normal life with normal people?" He muttered tiredly.

**To be continued!**

**A/N: **Thanks to LurkerAlert, 2 Guests, Raicheda-Gives-Ya-An-Idea, Algorithms, Shannon. Aria-Valandriel-195, lvykinz888, TheKingOfTheCrossroad, Glorilian, Gauss & Evil-Riggs for reviewing. I really appreciate it.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.


	6. Worry About Change

**Disclaimer:** I am not J. K. Rowling, neither do I won Harry Potter. No money is earned from writing this fanfiction.

**A/N:** I know I've used a long time to update this time... but here it is!

This hasn't been beta read - so if you notice some mistakes, please tell me so I can fix them.

* * *

**The Cleaner**

_**Worry About Change**_

When Harold Maeve Potter was a child, he thought himself invincible.

In his own mind there was nothing that could force him down, not even death.

His mother had encouraged his beliefs while his father had frowned upon it. His older brother had done neither, not interested in anything concerning his younger brother.

In his mind, he was unbeatable, unbreakable and, above all, eternal. If not in physical matter then metaphysical.

It never was a topic whether he should keep his opinions to himself or not. They were shared with everyone and everything; he was not concerned about their opinion of his arrogant ways. No, he was unbreakable; a few hater was surely the last of his worries.

Harold had always been a beautiful child and he had been told so by countless of people. He was striking in both looks and charisma. His love for his eternalness only added to his exotic personality and looks, drawing in the most feared and arrogant of man. Though Harold never feared them, not even when his guards had to dispose of some when they tried to win him over with unusual ways. Why should he? They had nothing that could hurt him.

When he found a male lover and, as a result, rejected his fiancé, he never doubted his feelings. Not in the accusing and harsh eyes of his father, not in the worried of his mother; yes, not even when his brother threatened never to let him see his nephew again, who had been his friend since he was a child.

He loved his flawed lover; with all his spots and faults.

Though it all came crashing down when he was captured by a group of eternal men. Out of the blue, the feeling off being endless became a nightmare. It was a curse, and he fled his arrogant skin as soon as he could feel the mirror breaking.

He could see the real world as it was.

He was just as blemished as everyone else. Beatable, breakable and, above all, transient.

* * *

The enclosed room had received a yellow tinge from the fire burning in the chimney. The bed in the middle of the room was empty. Though when looking around the room, two smooth chairs could be seen standing by the chimney. The man known as the Dark Lord and his obnoxious pet, a vampire, filled the void places in both chairs. Though the later sat irritatingly squirming, moving back and forth in the large chair. Two glasses of liquor were seen on a small table beside them, one full; the other empty.

"Cassiopeia Potter..." Voldemort murmured to himself, not meaning to let anyone else hear his outspoken thoughts. Harry ceased his movement, though his fingers kept drumming against the side of the chair. Active; too much energy. Glancing up at the man in front of him, he managed to whisper an answer. "Hm?"

"Your mother's name." Voldemort answered, leaning relaxedly back in his chair. Harry moved around in his chair, so he was lying with his feet over the armrests. Leaning his head back; he stared at Voldemort. "Yeah, what about her?"

"I'm about to find you on the Potter family tree." Voldemort said coldly as he flipped through another set of pages in the book he was reading.

"..." Flipping out of his chair, stumbling a bit as his feet hit the floor, he strolled waveringly up to Voldemort. Harry kneeled beside the reading man and muttered. "Do you have to; Why not ask me instead of trying to find it in a book?" He reached up to Voldemort, brushing his hand over the taller man's fingers.

Voldemort glanced down at Harry, who was staring interestingly at his hands. "You have something against it?" He asked as he shook off Harry's searching fingers. "I do want to know your real name; since Harry is clearly not your real one. And since you are a pet I believe it is inappropriate to ask."

Harry blinked stupidly at him before bursting out in laughter. "Pfft, why'd you believe that? Of course, Harry's my name..." He quieted down, licking his lips nervously. "And how important is it? I'm your pet, name is of no significance."

Voldemort stared at him. "An intriguing notion."

"An intriguing what?" Harry asked curiously, once again reaching up to Voldemort's hand.

Shaking it lazily off for the second time, he sighed. "It amazes me just how simple and foolish you act, especially since you are older than me."

"Everybody can't be as arrogant and possessive as you, you snake... oh dear, almost used it as a negative word... " Harry stared up at him with widened eyes, as though the world was about to come crashing down. After a minute he sighed, shaking his head way to fast to be healthy. "That was close; I would never have been able to forgive myself if I had gone through and said it... surely I would have died from guilt." He said, nodding in satisfaction.

"You are getting off topic, Harry." Was the chilly answer.

"What?! No! I'm not getting off the topic. Why would I get off topic? Did I get off topic?" Harry rambled. "Oh, well - the topic if not interesting, now let go of that book; I don't like to look at the huge family tree." It was the only warning Voldemort received before Harry ripped the book from his hands, throwing it behind him into the chimney. Voldemort stared at the burning book for a moment, before waving his hand over the fireplace, whisking the book out of it; surprisingly still intact.

Apparently choosing to ignore the violent action of his pet, he only asked superiorly. "Why?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What 'why'?" He asked, before glancing over the man sitting in front of him. "Oh, you do look lovely tonight, Voldie. Wanna play? I really wanna play with you - yeah, that would be so nice." The random words made their way to his mouth, forgetting the previous question from his so-called master.

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face closer to Harry's. "I do want to do something painful to you; however, you are intoxicated and have no control of your actions so I will let it be." Red eyes staring into green ones, the threat was clear when he spoke again. "Do not call me 'Voldie', it is degrading."

Harry was far too drunk to mind the threat, babbling away. "It's not degrading; it's cute!"

"I am a dark lord, I do not appreciate being called cute."

Harry quieted down, scanning Voldemort before exclaiming. "But you're beautiful!" Licking his lips, he moaned. "Oh yeah, you're gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering."

"I am honoured." Voldemort replied dryly, if a bit amused at his pet's antics.

"Hmmm, yeah. Never throw away your pet, all right?" Harry asked as he stood up, leaning closer to the man in the chair; arms at both sides of the armrests.

Voldemort stared into Harry's eyes, not reacting to the smaller man's movements. "It is not your choice, but for the time being I believe I will keep you."

"Great! Now kiss me, as a way to seal the deal." Harry said and leaned closer to Voldemort. Their faces were close now, Harry could feel Voldemort's warm breath and he desperately wished to lean closer. To get one more taste, to remember the taste of his blood - it would be incredible.

"You cannot order me around." Voldemort ordered, placing his hand around Harry's neck, a silent threat.

Harry was far too aroused to care about anything else than getting what he wanted and whispered. "Of course, how silly of me." He slid up in Voldemort's lap, ignoring the man's lack of movement. "Voldemort, please, let me kiss you?" He asked breathlessly, bringing his hands up to the man's shoulders.

Voldemort leaned closer to Harry, their lips almost touching. Crimson eyes stared into blurred green ones, though just as Harry thought the man would lean forward to crush their lips together Voldemort smirked.

"No." He answered, and Harry blinked in surprise. He had been refused.  
Red, tight anger bubbled uncontrollably up in his chest, and Harry bit his lip in surprise. He did not wish to react to the way he was a treated if he did then it only proved that he had lost. What, what had he lost?

A stupid smile spread across his face as he desperately tried to suppress his feelings. He had promised himself not to care about anything when he lost his mortality. It made no sense that after such a long time, his deeply controlled behaviour would begin to crack - maybe it was because he was drunk?

Harry slid slowly off Voldemort's lap, trying to keep in touch with his childish and stupid behaviour. "Where's Baldwin...?" He asked quietly. Yes, Baldwin could fix the cracks; if only he could talk to the snake, then he would be able to regress back to his real personality.

Voldemort stared questionably at Harry, who was staring emotionless back. His childish smile was long gone. "Baldwin?"

"My snake..." He was about to slip from the edge and if he did not get the snake soon, he would without a doubt fall into the abyss of his suppressed personality.

"Still alive, if that is what you are asking." Voldemort answered, studying Harry's change in behaviour.

Harry exhaled. "I need him." It had not been a question, but a demand.

"No." Voldemort replied.

Harry closed his eyes as he leaned his head backwards. _"It's shattering."_

* * *

As Harold Maeve Potter had become an eternal man, he had acknowledged his own faults to the extreme.

Trying the hardest to rediscover his arrogant youth, he had slowly attained small, but self-destructive tendencies.

He tried to become unbeatable, unbreakable and, above all, eternal to the best of his ability.

To be unbeatable, by killing other people on request.

To be unbreakable, by never complaining about any kind of treatment.

To be enteral by never having the mortal dust, dirt and old touch him.

He was never to be lost again. He had no mask. He had no fears. He was untouched by his surroundings, never to lie in the dirty cell of mud and dust expecting to become a part of it.

This was his mantra; he refused to let go of the Harold that had died in the cell.

By keeping the dead skin bound to his face; he rejected the moving, be it vampire or man.

Harold Maeve Potter refused to let go of the past that haunted him more than anything.

The moment he met The Dark Lord he did not sense his mask gradually sliding from his face. Sooner or later he would have to accept that he no longer could play the character of a dead man.

He was not Harold Maeve Potter, the young man who had thought he could do anything, but in reality was powerless.

He was Harry Potter, the old man who desperately tried to keep a false mask to his face because he thought he was powerless, while in reality he was invincible.

**To be continued**


	7. Don't Worry About Cleanliness

**Disclaimer:** I am not J. K. Rowling, neither do I won Harry Potter. No money is earned from writing this fanfiction.

**A/N:** I know that this chapter can be a bit confusing, but I think Harry's problem can be understood - or at least I hope so.:P Once again - if you see any grammar mistake, please tell me so I can correct it.

Enjoy!

**Warning:** Blood and gore, nothing too graphic.

* * *

**The Cleaner**

**Don't Worry About Cleanliness**

Voldemort stared critically at Harry's unmoving form, scrutinising him for any movement that would signify an attack. He did not deny that he was an arrogant man, but he never let it go to his head. Especially not when someone like Harry acted out off character so suddenly.

Harry was standing eerily silent; his head still thrown back as if he was staring at the roof. Though it was unclear if he actually was doing such a thing because pitch-black locks of hair were obscuring Harry's eyes. Sighing, Voldemort leaned back in his chair, though he was careful to keep his wand firmly gripped between slender fingers.

After another minute in complete silence, Harry inhaled forcibly; it sounded as though he had held his breath.

Lifting his head, sharp green eyes clashed with red ones. Harry grimaced in disgust and ruffled his already messy hair. "Fuck." He murmured irritatingly.

Glancing annoyingly at Harry, he drawled disapprovingly. "Language, pet."

Harry, who had been staring interestingly around the room, looked angrily at Voldemort. "What did you call me?" He snapped, his voice rougher and sharper than normal.

Voldemort leaned forward in interest over the sudden mood change Harry had gone through. "You are a pet, an animal." He murmured, studying the anger rising in green eyes. "Who do you think you are?" Harry replied coldly, tilting his head to the side as he studied Voldemort through emotionless eyes.

"Your owner." Voldemort answered.

Harry smirked as he shook his head in humour. "No, you are not." He murmured calmly. Strolling disturbingly silent up to Voldemort, he leaned forward as he whispered. "You're just a bloodbank."

Voldemort glared annoyingly at Harry. "Excuse me?" He was a dark lord; no one had the right to call him a bloodbank. Not even his own pet.

"Oh, did the truth hurt?" Harry replied, grinning widely. He glanced away from Voldemort and without further notice thrust his foot into the small table beside the dark lord's chair, sending it and the two glasses flying before it smashed against the floor. The glass shattered and the wooden table splintered. "I bet it did; you humans have such problems accepting that you're nothing more than our food. Only meant to be sliced open and splattered across walls!" As he talked his controlled voice disappeared, and a more wild, untamed one appeared. Like a wild animal loosing control. He was standing above the splintered table, smashing it into bits with his bare foot. The splints were pushed into his foot, and blood flowed through grotesque wounds.

Voldemort stared at the commotion with emotionless eyes, only sighing over the state of his expensive tea table.

When the glass and wood had been crushed into small fragments, Harry ceased his movements. Glancing down at his mutilated but healing foot, he inhaled in pleasure. "Imagine it, blood dirtying clothes, coloring walls; it's best when there's not a clean spot left." He sighed, rolling his shoulders in relaxation. "Everything covered in red." The last part came out as a whisper, but it had been enough for Voldemort to understand the situation.

"Clearly you too need disciplining." Voldemort murmured.

He seemed to have calmed down as cold eyes shifted his stare towards Voldemort. "Disciplining..." He said before an understanding light entered his eyes. "Oh, I see; he became your pet. Poor Harold. Poor, poor Harold." Harry said piteously.

Voldemort massaged his temples tiredly. "Sit." He commanded.

The other man crouched down to pull a splint out off his foot, and murmured quietly. "Forget it. I'm not going to sit anywhere on your command, baldy."

"Sit, and I will get you some dinner." He said not desiring to argue with the stubborn vampire.

Glancing up, Harry licked the splint free from crimson liquid before muttering. "Bribery..." Nodding he stood up. "All right." Harry strolled up to the empty chair, where he cautiously leaned his body against the armrest. He was much more paranoid than 'Harry' too, it would seem.

"Tittup." At once, the restless houseelf popped into the room. "Yes, master?" It muttered, jumping back and forth on the floor.

Voldemort glanced away from the irritating creature. "A-" He began, but the houseelf broke him off. "Master wants tea? Coffee? No...? Water?"

Sighing he shook his head. "A Muggle from the dungeon." Voldemort ordered, and Tittup nodded somewhat disappointingly back.

Just as Tittup was about to pop away, Harry took a strong grip around its thin arms."Creature." He whispered threateningly. "Get a young man, in his 20s would be preferable." Green eyes stared down at the little creature in disgust and Tittup squeaked fearfully.

Glancing over at Voldemort with blank eyes, it whispered. "Master?"

Voldemort nodded. "A young man." Harry smirked in satisfaction and let Tittup go so it could pop away.

"Your name, vampire." Voldemort ordered, hoping the other would answer without further discussion.

Harry shook his head before asking. "What makes you think I'm not Harold?"

Green and crimson eyes classed, both cutting into the other. "He does not call himself 'Harold'." Voldemort replied.

"He doesn't? Oh - that's right, he doesn't." Harry whispered quietly to himself. "Why should I give you my name? And have some more respect young man, I'm years older than you." He finished, glancing down at Voldemort as tough he was a pile of dirt.

Eyes narrowing in anger, he twirled his wand threateningly. "'Harold' did not mind."

"I'm not him." Harry said.

"Clearly." He murmured. "You are the one who have given him a reputation as an assassin." Voldemort remarked.

"You're not invalid, it seems." Harry said pleasantly. "Very well, you may talk to me as though we're equals, but don't you dare call me 'pet' again. I'll slit your pretty throat." He grinned broadly, showing off pearly white canines. "And to answer your question; yes, I'm the assassin. Harold is not capable of handling such dirty situations, just as I'm not able to handle meetings with clients." Shuddering in disgust, he furrowed his eyebrows. "The human race is... disgraceful."

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, studying the other man. "Does he know that you exist?"

"Harold?" He asked nonchalantly. "Yes, he does..." Harry pursed his lips, green eyes chilly. "Though I don't think he wants to acknowledge my existence."

"Intriguing." Voldemort muttered. "Though if you are in charge of the assassination, why did 'Harold' come after me and not you?"

"When he gets worried he refuses to let me out... when I think about it, it's all your fault that I've been locked up the last weeks." Harry said calmly; it did not sound as though he cared.

Voldemort knew that Harry was blaming him since he had kidnapped 'Harold's' beloved snake, Baldwin. "Really?" Was his only reply.

"Shut up, your arrogance is irritating." Harry murmured.

"Are you sure you are the one to talk, vampire?" He replied, resulting in a cold glare from Harry. "You are not any less arrogant than me."

Harry shook his head. "At least I have a reason." Brushing his hand through his messy hair, he tugged painfully at it. "I'm immortal, why should I not be arrogant?"

"Indeed, then we agree."

Shaking his head in denial, Harry looked into the flames flickering in the chimney. "Agree? I never agree with anyone."

Following the other man's stare, Voldemort smirked. "Obviously."

After a moment of silence, Tittup popped up together with a young man. Harry glanced down at his food, studying the man's face before nodding in delight.

Voldemort excused the small houseelf. "Now eat and be silent; you talk as much as Harold." He ordered.

"Don't order me around." Harry whispered, but listened nonetheless as he reached toward the man's chin. Tilting the Muggle's head back, he ran his hand down the man's neck. Harry leaned down to his ear, whispering. "Hello, you're a handsome young man, aren't you?." The mentioned man shuddered in fear.

"...Let me go." He coughed.

Harry's face was emotionless, cold green eyes already in the process of consuming the Muggle's life. "Shut up, I don't want to listen to your complaining when I'm eating." He murmured, casting a wandless silencing spell and a binding spell. He walked up to the annihilated glasses and tea table to pick up the biggest fragments before he returned to the bound Muggle.

"Don't be scared." He murmured as he stabbed a wooden piece into the man's left eye. Smiling widely, he did the same thing to the other eye.

Voldemort sighed in irritation. "Refrain from staining the carpet too much."

"No way! This carpet will be crimson red when I'm finished." He heard Harry answer followed by a cracking sound. The sound of bones breaking.

After half an hour, Harry glanced down at his masterpiece. It was beautiful when the human body were shattered beyond repair, so wonderful he could do nothing else but lay down in it.

Voldemort studied the boy in front of him. "Why can you not share Harold's OCD?" It was a mess; the crimson liquid was splattered across the entire carpet and Harry himself was laying in the middle of it all.

The white shirt was completely red; even his hair had attained a crimson shine. Harry glanced towards Voldemort. "It would be a nightmare. I don't care if I get dirty; I just want to have fun." He massaged blood into his already bloody face, eyes closing in enjoyment. "And I cannot have fun without splattering crimson liquid across walls and floors."

**To be continued!**


	8. Don't Worry About Me

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and I am not J. K. Rowling.

**A/N:** I know it's been a while since I last updated - but here it is! It has not been beta read, so if you see any mistakes it would be wonderful if you could tell me.:D

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**The Cleaner**

**Don't Worry About Me**

He glanced at the glorious mess of blood at the floor. It was such a wonderful and, in a way, beautiful sight; crimson all over every surface. It was enough to make him smile in delight, but he would not. No, not as long as he was in the same room as the creature that had disrespected him_ and_ Harold.

Brushing a crimson hand through his hair, he sighed in frustration and irritation. What a pity. Usually, he would feel relaxed and satisfied after dissecting someone, but somehow the other bald man hindered such relaxation.

Glaring into disturbingly beautiful crimson eyes, he snapped. "Harold is _much_ more than you. You should not speak off him as a pet." How dare he say such things about Harold. It angered him more than anything that the main personality, the weakest and the one that needed the most protection was disrespected. He was even called a 'pet'. Outrageous.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair. "He did not mind." He drawled.

"I do. He just can't stand up for himself; I refuse to let you use him as a pet." He returned, but Voldemort did not seem to care.

Voldemort stared critically at him for a moment before smirking. "Why do you care? After our earlier conversation, I would have thought that you believe you are above Harry."

Gritting his teeth, he snarled angrily. "Why do _you_ care?"

"Harry belongs to me... and I always care about my possessions." Voldemort drawled arrogantly.

"You've let your arrogance go to your head." He answered poisonously, hoping he could anger the dark lord. "Harold does not belong to anyone, and if he does belong to someone then it's me!" Harold was above everyone; he was an unexplained existence; therefore, he should be respected, even feared.

Voldemort leaned interestingly up in his chair, eyes gleaming in curiosity. "Oh - really? Have you forgotten that you and Harry a body? And since you do both of you belong to me."

His green eyes widened at the other man's words, before he began to laugh wildly in humour. "No way in hell. I will never belong to anyone."

"That much I have understood." Voldemort agreed.

"Good." He murmured, grinning broadly. He brushed a hand over his red shirt. "Well then, I'll be going." He said, ignoring Voldemort completely. "It doesn't look as though I'll be able to kill you today." He concluded and it was the truth. It would be impossible to kill Voldemort today; he would have to wait. He was an assassin and had certain ways of doing his job. If he tried then maybe he could kill the dark lord, but he did not have enough information on the snake man and was too tired to try anything for the time being.

"Will you try to kill me again, even though you failed the first time?" Was the only snide remark he received.

"Have you forgotten that it was Harold who failed? When I come after you, it will be a totally different experience." He drawled, glaring at Voldemort who only lifted his chin in reply."I will kick your ass." The arrogant bastard would never know what hit him.

"It seems as though you are underestimating me, but I will let it go." Voldemort replied. "I am looking forward to getting my 'ass kicked'."

"You should!" The green-eyed boy answered. "I will beat you into the floor and drain you for blood... I doesn't matter what Harold wants."

"Are you feeling conflicted?"

"No, why should I?" He replied as he began to walk towards the door. They were not getting anywhere by arguing, and Voldemort was pissing him off.

"You care for Harry, so you feel guilty because you have to kill someone he likes." Voldemort explained, enjoying the situation way too much. Asshole.

"Harold doesn't like you at all. What makes you think that...?" He snarled, refusing to think that Harold could ever like such an arrogant man.

"He loves snakes, so he may not like my personality but we both know he has wet dreams about my appearance." Was Voldemort's horrible reply. How could anyone be so irritating?

"Shit - why can't he like normal people." He whispered bitterly.

Voldemort stood up from his chair as he murmured. "It pains me to hear that you do not think I am normal."

"Oh shut up, we both know you are not normal and you relish in it." It had been clear from the moment he had opened his eyes about an hour earlier.

Voldemort nodded. "I will not deny the truth." He strolled towards the black-haired man, eyes possessively brushing over the green-eyed man's body.

"Whatever." He murmured, glancing away from Voldemort.

Voldemort was now standing few meters away from the other man. "It would be excellent if you can give me your name before you leave, if not I will have to call you 'pet'."

Glaring hotly at Voldemort he snapped. "No."

Nodding, Voldemort smiled fearfully. "'Pet' it is."

"You're a real pain in the ass." He gritted out. It would be horrible to share his name with someone like Voldemort, but when he thought about it, anything was better than being called 'pet'. Glaring into crimson eyes, he tilted his chin up in an arrogant manner. "Ares... just call me Ares."

Ares saw as a satisfied look spread across Voldemort's face, and exhaled as he tried to keep his promise not to kill the man at the moment. "Ares - from the god of war in Greek mythology?" Voldemort snorted.

Ares smirked. "Yeah, what about it? I had to pick a name and somehow 'Ares' felt right."

"I am sure it did." Voldemort murmured after a moment.

Ares's smirk fell from his face and he glanced uninterestedly away from Voldemort. "It did, so shut up."

"Very Well."

"Wonderful..." Ares turned around to the locked door. After a quietly whispered incarnation, it bursted open in an explosion. Violence was such a lovely thing.

He was about to step out off the room, when Voldemort had to say something. Apparently the man could never shut up. "Maybe I should bribe you out of your deal with Fudge."

Ares glanced back at Voldemort. "How do you know you can buy me out of it?" Harold only told their clients about how they operated. _Money decided everything._

"I have my sources." Yeah, Ares was sure he did. After all, Voldemort was a dark lord.

"Fudge gave me a huge sum for your assassination, are you sure you have the money to buy me out of it?" Ares smirked. He hoped Voldemort did not have enough money because Ares actually wanted to kill the man.

Voldemort stared coldly down at Ares. "I do, thought the question is - should I?" He whispered and Ares furrowed his eyebrows at the answer. "Why shouldn't you? Don't you want to live?" He murmured to Voldemort.

Smirking, Voldemort walked up to Ares. Eyes shining, he whispered. "If I do then you will not return to me."

"Return... to you?" Ares asked hesitantly.

Voldemort smirked in enjoyment. "Yes, to kill me. If I pay you, then you can run away, but if I do not then you have no choice but to return to this building." He explained and Ares imagined himself draining the man for blood.

"You're-" Ares began but before he could finish his sentence, Voldemort cut him off. "Goodbye." And he apparated away, leaving an angry vampire behind.

Ares loathed the man.

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_"Baldwin..."_ He murmured disdainfully as he glanced down at the snake. It had been no challenge to find the snake, but now that he had he regretted it. Baldwin was beautifully trapped inside a dirty cage, and Ares knew that if he left there was no way Baldwin would be able to ever get out without help.

Baldwin stared hatefully up at Ares. Clearly he could see that it was not Harold that was in charge. _"Ares..."_

_"You're still alive, that's a pity."_ Ares sighed in disappointment.

Baldwin flicked his tongue. _"Right back at you. Now, let Harold out."_

Snorting in disbelief, Ares shook his head. _"No way. He's sleeping."_ Harold was tired, so Ares would take care of everything until the other was ready to come out.

_"I do not want to talk to you."_ Baldwin replied cuttingly.

Ares glanced away from the snake. _"Neither do I."_

_"..."_ A silence spread across the room, or maybe he should call it a dungeon. It was situated underneath the mansion, and the walls were grey, moist and dirty. It was a good thing that Ares was in charge at the moment; Harold would without a doubt have gotten nightmares from the room.

Baldwin hissed in annoyance._ "Let us return to Harold's apartment. I have spent too much time in this horrible building."_ Both the snake and Harold had no appreciation for dust and dirt. How could they not see the beauty in it?

Sighing, he murmured._ "I'll open the cage, but you'll get home on your own."_

He waved his hand over the lock, and a moment later it popped open. Opening the cage door, he let Baldwin slither out. As soon as Baldwin was out he hissed. _"I'll tell Harold."_

Shit. Ares already regretted letting the snake out._ "No, you will not."_ He snapped.

_"I will."_ The snake promised, and Ares knew he would. Grimacing, he whispered. _"...Shit,"_

_"Now give me your hand so I can get up on your shoulders."_ Baldwin ordered.

Ares stared stupidly down at the snake._ "I have no intention of letting you lay around my shoulders - you'll probably try to choke me."_

_"Unfortunately, you share that body with Harold, so I have no choice but to treat it gently."_ The snake replied, but Ares did not look convinced.

_"Nah - I'll explain where we are and then you can find your way home by yourself."_ He murmured. Baldwin shook his head in a disturbingly human-like manner. _"No."_

_"Why did Harold have to find a pest like you?"_ Ares whined.

_"Why did Harold have to share his body with someone like you?"_ Baldwin replied.

_"Touché."_ Ares murmured.

_"Let me up, now."_ Baldwin ordered. The green-eyed man stared down at the snake with a conflicted look. After a moment, he swallowed harshly.

_"No, I really can't... you're disgusting."_ He exclaimed stepping further away from Baldwin.

_"Shame on you, Ares. What would Harold say if he heard you say such despicable words?"_ Baldwin chastised. Why did the snake have to bring Harold up in their conversation? That was unfair.

Dropping his head in defeat, Ares murmured. _"Fuck... fine, but only until I've teleported away from this place."_ He sat down on his knees so he could help Baldwin up on his shoulders. The snake had an irritatingly pleased look in its eyes.

Ares had never understood what Harold could see in the disturbing creature. So what if it was immortal like them? Ares had no desire to share his life with the snake, but it did not seems as though Harold would let it go anytime soon so he had to live with it.

As long as Baldwin pleased Harold nothing had to be done to the snake. Though if it ever hurt or damaged Ares's beloved Harold it would understand that death was not the worst thing that could happen.

Ares would never admit it out loud, but Harold was his everything. He was willing to do anything to keep Harold safe; even if he had to keep living without being accepted by Harold.

Nevertheless it tortured Ares to be rejected by an existence he loved more than anything. It was painful, even agonising, but there was nothing he could do about it. After all, he had understood that the world was unfair a long time ago.

**To be continued!**

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**A/N:** So what do you think about Ares?


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